My grandparents had a small farm in SW Manitoba and enjoyed raising their young family. Dad was born in 1902 and he had a sister Mary, three years older, and another sister Edna who was one. In January 1907, Edna died from scarlet fever. A year later, another sister was stillborn.

The family grew with Bill born in 1909, Kathleen in 1911, and Jack on December 30, 1913. However, there were complications from the birth and my grandmother passed away on January 13, 1914. Dad was only 11.

My grandfather was around 50 at the time but did his best trying to raise his young family and look after the farm. He hired a housekeeper/nanny to come in but let her go after about a year, when it was found she neglected Jack who was found dangling from his crib.

So, 15-year-old Mary took over all the household chores. Life continued, with the older children helping out where they could, especially Dad, the oldest son who had to quit school having only completed Grade 8.

Then, early in 1920, the Spanish flu hit. Dad and Uncle Bill had it but they both survived. Anyone who didn’t have the flu or was over it helped with the chores of two or three neighbours, Dad and Bill included.

Grandpa was on his way to Souris to get groceries when the flu hit him. He stopped off at the Mowat’s farm and they put him to bed. For the next couple of days Dad and Bill continued to work their own farm and do the chores of another neighbour as well.  They had a team of horses and a sleigh and got to see their dad just as he was breathing his last. The undertaker was called, and as was the custom at the time, the casket was placed in the front room. This was still at the Mowat’s farmhouse. That night Dad and Bill had to go and do their chores at home. 

The next day Mr. Mowat helped Dad and Bill do the chores at two other farms before getting to do the chores at their own farm. A winter storm was brewing and it was getting bad. They left the stable doors open and left bales of hay for the horses, realizing they might not get back to their farm the next day.  They put some hay in the back of the sleigh, took horse blankets and started off for the Mowat’s farm. The horses, sensing the impending danger, kept trying to go back home and the boys and Mr. Mowat got turned around in the blinding storm. They unhitched the horses and left them with the sleigh and bales of hay.

Mr. Mowat and the two boys set out by foot but soon realized they were going around in circles. Then they decided to stand in a row, hold each other’s hand and walk the entire distance along the fence line by having the person at the head of the line facing the direction of the corner and the person at the back going around, taking his hand going in the direction he was facing. There were no roads, but they followed the fence line like that for about three-quarters of a mile. It was all drifts and they couldn’t leave the fence or they would have been lost again. They finally made it to the Mowats’ and it stormed for another couple of days. The funeral was called off until it cleared up so they spent those days in the house with their father’s body in the front room.

The day of the funeral was a cold but bright, sunshiny day. The sleigh was used to carry the casket, but the roadway was all drifted in so the sleigh kept upsetting. They’d have to pick up the coffin and put it back in the sleigh. They eventually got to the cemetery for a short ceremony.  In those days, the grave diggers only had shovels to dig with so they probably had to build a fire to thaw out the ground in order to bury him.

The younger children were split up among relatives. My 17-year-old Dad and his 14-year-old brother stayed on the farm, looking after the cattle until the spring. Then a cousin stayed with Dad and helped him put the crop in while Bill went to live with relatives. Bill went back to the farm in the fall to help Dad until the harvesting was done.

After the war, wheat prices started falling.  The mortgage on the farm was around $6,000, quite a lot for two boys to try to pay off in those days.  Times in general were pretty tough.  So, the farm was auctioned off and Dad eventually found himself on the streets in Brandon looking for work.  That’s when he met up with The Salvation Army.

The ashes of my brother who passed away in January 2020 will be buried beside the grandfather we never knew.

(Documented by Gladys Thompson, with special thanks to Janice Armstrong, Uncle Bill’s granddaughter, who recorded an interview with him when he was in his 80’s and she shared a typed copy of the interview.)